


1936

by BucksomeBarnes (Freckled_Halos)



Series: The Before [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fights, M/M, Minor Character Death, Money, Plans For The Future, Teenagers, Tickle Fights, again so much crying, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 12:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15751782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckled_Halos/pseuds/BucksomeBarnes
Summary: Steve makes an important decision about his future.Bucky wants to help pay for Steve's school supplies, but he is having none of it.Sarah passes away.





	1. April

APRIL 1936

 

The twilight evening was cool, periwinkle light illuminating the dirt patch between the Rogers’ apartment building and the tenement next door. Steve and Bucky stood in the dust, tossing a baseball back and forth with worn leather gloves.

“Have you thought more about school?” Bucky asked, catching a low pitch.

“I dunno,” Steve answered. “I’m still not sure I want to be a professional artist.”

“But you’re so good at it.”

Steve caught Bucky’s strong toss. “Thank you. I do love it, I just don’t want to grow to hate it, y’ know?”

“Sure,” Bucky replied. “But you can always change your mind later.”

Steve pitched the ball back. “You’re right.”

“Just do a year, Steve, see how it goes. If you hate it? That’s okay, at least then you’ll know.”

“That’s a good point.” His mitt made a hollow sound as the baseball hit it. “I can put up with a lot for just a year.”

“Hey, look at how long you’ve been putting up with me,” Bucky joked as Steve threw the ball.

“Yeah and nothing could ever be as hard as that,” Steve teased back, watching Bucky raise his arm to catch the throw without even looking.

Bucky got that mischievous glint in his eye that made the pit of Steve’s stomach tingle. He sauntered over to Steve, lowering his voice. “Oh, I’ll give you something hard.”

“Jesus Christ, Buck,” Steve laughed. “That’s the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

Bucky stopped just a hair away from Steve, lowering his head to give Steve a burning stare. “But it worked didn’t it?”

Steve bit his lip, cheeks and ears burning as his eyes raked all over Bucky’s face and body. Without saying anything, they simultaneously broke out into a run, stumbling up the apartment steps and falling inside, flinging their gloves off to paw hungrily at each other.

\--

A few mornings later, Steve leaned his hip against the kitchen sink as he gazed out the window, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands.

Mrs. Rogers was at the table, already in her nurse whites, eating a bowl of cream of wheat.

“I responded to Auburndale,” Steve murmured quietly.

“Oh?” Sarah asked, “What did you tell them?”

He turned towards her, smiling. “I’m gonna go. In January.”

“Good for you, Steve! You’re so talented, you can’t let that go to waste. But go easy on the other students, honey, don’t hurt anyone’s feelings just because you’re the best artist in the whole school.”

Steve rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Thanks, Ma. I won’t.”

She grinned back, eyes crinkling up, before standing to lean around the kitchen doorway to check the clock next to the front door. “I have to run,” she started, turning back to Steve and then glancing down at her empty bowl.

“I’ll clean up,” Steve offered, noting her expression. “Have a nice day at work, Mom.”

Sarah smiled warmly at him, stepping over to give him a kiss on the forehead. Smoothing down his bangs, she said, “Thank you, dear,” eyes roaming around Steve’s face.

The look in her eyes made Steve wary and he asked, “Everything alright?”

She met his gaze and gave him a forced smile. “Of course.” Clearing her throat, she turned around and bounded into the living room. Steve heard her slip on her shoes and open the door calling “I love you!” before it quickly slammed shut.

Steve looked out the window again, brows furrowed in thought.

After finishing his coffee, Steve washed the dishes, made sure the stove was off, and left for school.


	2. September

SEPTEMBER 1936

 

“I’m so excited for you, Steve,” Bucky said happily, bumping Steve’s shoulder with his own.

Steve ignored him, looking from the list in his hand to the shelf of paints in front of him.

“Hey,” Bucky started, turning his body to face Steve in the aisle of the art store. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head, Steve grimaced. “There’s a lot of stuff I need to get.”

“This is the fun part, Steve, come on!” Bucky replied, trying to lift Steve’s spirits. “Look at all this new art stuff you get to buy.”

“ _Get_ to or _have_ to?” Steve mumbled, trying to mentally add up the cost of all his school supplies.

Bucky looked between the list and Steve’s screwed-up face. Lowering his voice, he just said, “Let me take care of some of it.”

“No,” Steve answered immediately.

“Don’t be like that,” Bucky replied, cautiously eyeing a man swerving around Steve. “I can help, let me help.”

Steve shot Bucky an angry glare and Bucky tried not to roll his eyes at his stubbornness. Bucky let out a heavy sigh and crossed his arms, turning away. After a few long moments, he could still feel Steve staring, so he looked over.

“I don’t need your help, Buck,” Steve whispered, icy.

Bucky sighed and responded quietly, “we’re going to talk about this later.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Steve said in an irritatingly casual voice.

“Don’t do that,” Bucky shot back. “Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot, Steve.”

“I wouldn’t if you weren’t acting like one,” Steve grumbled under his breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky hissed, letting his arms flop heavily to his sides. “You done?”

Steve clenched his jaw, avoiding Bucky’s stare before sniffing and saying, “Let’s just go. I don’t need any of this for a few months anyway.”

They tramped out of the store, not looking at each other. It wasn’t until they were rounding Steve’s building that Bucky finally said something.

“Why d’you have to be so damn proud all the time?”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Bucky barked out a bitter laugh. “Oh, now who’s the idiot?”

Steve shot him an angry look before huffing and clomping up the stairs with irritation. He unlocked the front door and plowed inside, not bothering to hold it open behind him.

Bucky braced his hand against the door as it swung back. “If you’re gonna be like that, I’m just gonna go home.”

“Fine. Go.”

“Steve…”

They looked frustratingly at each other. Bucky knew that once Steve got in one of his moods, it took effort to coax him out of it, and this afternoon Bucky just didn’t think he had the energy in him. Shaking his head incredulously, Bucky turned on his heel and hopped down the stairs, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking home.

\--

The following Friday, Bucky honestly didn’t expect Steve to show up at the soda fountain, but there he was, perched on a stool at their corner of counter.

Bucky walked up quietly, placing a warm hand on Steve’s back before easing onto the seat next to him.

“Hey,” Steve said.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day,” Steve murmured, looking at Bucky with tired eyes.

“That’s not why I got upset,” Bucky started. “Sometimes, it just frustrates me that you—”

“Won’t take your charity?” Steve finished, taking a sip of his already half-gone milkshake, and Bucky wondered how long he had been sitting there, stewing.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Steve rubbed his forehead with slender fingers, staring down at the countertop. “Listen. I know you grew up with money and because of that, you don’t understand—”

“Woah, wait,” Bucky put a hand up and tried to control the volume of his voice. “I understand the situation perfectly fine, _Steve_. What _you_ don’t understand is how to swallow your god damn _pride_ and admit that, maybe, someone else can and _wants_ to make things easier for you. It’s called being grateful.”

“Gratef—” Steve started, loudly, voice rising in pitch as he too struggled to stay calm. “You think I’m not _grateful_ for everything I have? You think I don’t _know_ how much my mother has had to struggle just to make ends meet? You think I—” Steve stopped suddenly, shaking his head and turning away.

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it,” Bucky murmured back. “Goddammit, Steve, is this really where you want to have this conversation?”

Steve threw his hands up in frustration before sliding off his stool. Fishing around in his pockets, he very pointedly set his coins on the counter and wheeled around, bounding out of the shop.

Bucky let his head fall into his hands.

When he finally gathered the energy to follow, he found Steve waiting for him outside, leaning his back against the brick wall with his arms crossed. They silently fell into step with each other, walking in the direction of their homes.

“I didn’t mean to say that you were ungrateful for your mom,” Bucky began carefully.

“Then why did you?” Steve fired back, voice thick.

“Because you’re being that way about this,” Bucky replied, exasperated. “Steve, I’m sorry if I insulted you, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Do I?”

“You damn well should by now.”

“Bucky, I don’t need your charity and I don’t want it, alright? I can take care of myself.”

“Why d’you keep callin’ it that?” Bucky paused at a storefront and crossed his arms, watching as Steve took a few more steps in front of him.

Steve slowly stopped and turned to meet his gaze. “Because that’s what it is, Buck. It’s you just feelin’ bad for me and wanting to give all your big, fancy, Barnes money to poor, dirty Steve Rogers.”

Bucky gave him a stunned stare. “How could you say that? Do you honestly think I see you like that?” He lowered his voice. “That I see us like that?”

“Every time something like this comes up, you look at me with these big, puppy dog eyes like I’m the saddest thing you’ve ever seen. Like I’m just something to be _helped_ and _fixed_.”

“Steve, Jesus Christ, it’s called _empathy_. I thought you knew what that was.”

“It’s called _pity_ , Bucky, and it’s not the same thing.”

“No, you do not get to tell me how _I_ feel just because _you_ have a distorted concept of own your self-worth.”

The look in Steve’s eyes actually made Bucky nervous and for a split second, he thought Steve was going to deck him right there.

“Then _please_ , Dr. Barnes, explain to me how I feel about myself,” Steve replied, quiet and painfully sarcastic. “Apparently you know better than I do.”

Bucky deflated. He was sick of having this conversation over and over again and he hated when they fought.

“Steve.” His tone was quiet and tired. “I just want to support you, whether that’s emotionally or financially, or both. I know you’re appreciative of everything your mom does for you and I’m sorry if I insinuated otherwise. But it really hurts my feelings that you interpret my concern and wanting to help as pity and charity work.”

Faltering, Steve rubbed at his temples with his fingertips, letting out a long sigh.

Bucky stepped closer, lowering his voice to a point where Steve almost couldn’t hear him. “I love you, Steve. We’re supposed to be a team and that means we help each other.”

Steve looked up at him with glassy eyes. “I’ll never be able to pay it all back.”

“What, you think I keep some kind of ledger of the money I spend for you? Steve, you pay me back every day we’re together by just _being with me_. What we put into this might not be exactly the same, but that doesn’t mean the _value_ isn’t the same. Steve, money’s just money.”

“It’s not, though,” Steve replied, upset and clenching his fists. “You can’t just throw it away without thinking about it. You’d know that if you grew up like I did.”

Bucky was deeply hurt and his immediate reaction was to defend himself, but he knew Steve wouldn’t hear it and they’d just continue going in circles.

Ignoring the last statement, he just said, “So helping you go to school to build a life you love is just mindlessly throwing money away?”

“It is when it’s _your_ money and not mine.”

“What’s the difference?”

“What’s the _difference_?” Steve asked, high pitched and confused. “If I’m not a charity case, then why would you invest so much money in my future?”

Bucky stared at him with an expression Steve had never seen on his face before. It was a terrible mixture of pain, doubt, hurt, and anger, as tears welled up in his eyes.

“Because it’s _our_ future. Or have you changed your mind about that?”

Steve looked at Bucky, floored. Part of him always knew Bucky had good intentions with his helping out, but the underlying reasoning was what always nagged at Steve. All this time, he had never considered the possibility that it was because Bucky truly meant to be with him ‘‘til the end of the line.’ It felt conflicting. On one hand, Steve was infinitely flattered and the mutual feeling in his heart was indescribable. But on the other, Steve had a hard time believing Bucky Barnes would really want to stay with him for the rest of their lives.

“I haven’t,” Steve finally whispered, embarrassed.

“Steve…” Bucky sighed, dragging his hands down his flushed face. “I just want you to be happy.”

Nodding, Steve ran the back of his hand roughly beneath his nose.

Sniffing, Bucky added, “Just let me help you get there, okay?”

“Okay.” Steve worked his jaw, trying to hold the tears in as he remembered they were still standing on the edge of a public sidewalk.

“You know me, Steve,” Bucky said with a sad smile. “I wouldn’t still be around if I didn’t really want t’ be. And I don’t say shit I don’t mean, not with you.”

“No, I know,” Steve replied.

They looked at each other for a few long moments before continuing their walk home in silence. Pausing at their special street corner, Bucky pulled Steve in for a quick hug.

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s coat.

Stepping back, Bucky gave Steve a small smile. “I know y’ are.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be over after dinner.”

Steve nodded and pressed his lips together before finally peeling his gaze away, turning to cross the street. Bucky watched Steve disappear around a building before pressing on, looking forward to a hot bath and soft bed to calm down in.


	3. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: (minor) character death

OCTOBER 1936

 

Steve had thought the few months he and Bucky were broken up were the worst in his life, but that was before now.

A month ago, his mother began showing signs of a Tuberculosis infection severe enough for her peers and doctors to admit her into the very ward she had been a nurse in for as long as Steve could remember. It was bad enough not having her home and knowing she was suffering, but the worst part was that they wouldn’t let Steve see her.

Or rather, Sarah forbade it. With Steve’s weakened immune system, if he was infected, it would surely be fatal and Sarah would never be able to forgive herself for that. So Steve wrote her a letter every day, passing it off in the waiting room to one of the nurses. Even though he wasn’t allowed to see her, Steve was glad he was out of school and able to drop by the hospital every day without interruption.

Steve woke up on the 15th, tired and empty. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that today was going to be bad. Very bad. He rolled over in bed, squinting at the cold light streaming in between his window curtains, not wanting to get up and start this already _off_ day. He fell asleep for another hour or two, but it was fitful, and he woke again with the feelings of nightmares he couldn’t remember.

When he got to the hospital that morning, letter in hand, none of the nurses would take it and none would meet his eye. Eventually, one of the doctors came out to usher him to his mother’s bedside, and Steve immediately knew it was going to be the worst day of his life.

\--

Bucky’s stomach rolled as he stood up in the alley behind the gunsmiths. His lunch was tame enough, it shouldn’t have made him sick, but there was a feeling deep in Bucky’s gut that made him want to retch. He slipped back inside and went to the bathroom, pressing cool water against his face and the back of his neck. 

He heard the jingle of the front door opening and the murmuring of voices at the counter. Then there was a knock at the door.

Bucky opened it to find his boss, Mr. Bianchi, standing intimidatingly in front of him.

“Your _piccolo_ friend is here,” he said gruffly.

“Okay,” Bucky replied thickly, following him down the short hall to the front of the shop.

Steve looked extra small today, folded in on himself in a too-big shirt and too-big pants and too-big shoes. When Bucky approached him, his stomach dropped.

“Can we talk somewhere,” Steve whispered so quiet Bucky had to lean in to hear him.

Turning to Mr. Bianchi, Bucky asked, “Can I have a minute out back?”

He waved a big hairy hand dismissively in the air and Bucky led Steve through the smiths and out to the alley. The door shut and Steve immediately sank to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest and dropping his head. Bucky didn’t have to ask, he had a feeling and she had already been in the hospital for a couple weeks.

Kneeling down next to Steve, Bucky placed a trembling hand on his back, rubbing up and down as Steve violently shuddered with sobs. It was the absolute worst thing Bucky had ever heard and he squeezed his eyes shut, sitting heavily down onto the concrete to cradle Steve in his arms. Bucky buried his face into Steve’s hair, murmuring apologies over and over again as tears slowly rolled from his eyes.

Bucky didn’t know how long they had been sitting there, but he was extremely grateful no one had bothered them. Steve had run out of tears and was leaning into Bucky’s chest taking hiccupping, gulping breaths, trying to regain any sense of composure. His face was beet red and wet, the sleeves of his button up embarrassingly covered in tears and snot. Bucky rolled them up for him, hiding the worst of it, before gently running his thumbs across Steve’s cheeks.

“Let me grab my jacket,” Bucky whispered, pressing his lips against Steve’s hot forehead. “You want to stay at my place tonight?”

Steve nodded the tiniest amount and Bucky pulled him up to a stand. He was shaky and expressionless and Bucky’s heart broke just looking at him. Waiting in the hallway, Steve hugged his arms to himself as Bucky spoke to his boss and gathered his things. He heard steps approaching and felt Bucky at his side, gently coaxing him back out the alley door.

They walked to the train station, arms pressed against each other. Bucky wanted nothing more than to just hold Steve. Grab his hand or wrap his arm around his shoulders, anything to make him feel safe and comforted, but they were downtown and too many people were around. They got off the train in Brooklyn and Steve just stared, unseeing, as the sidewalk moved in front of them.

Bucky stopped suddenly and Steve realized they had already reached the Barnes’ front stoop. Bucky pushed him gently up the steps and opened the door, murmuring something that sounded like “stay here” before leaving Steve in the foyer. Steve was vaguely aware of Bucky walking down the hall and into the kitchen. He could hear muffled voices and a small gasp come from Mrs. Barnes before Bucky came bounding back, taking Steve’s hand in his and leading them upstairs.

Steve stood motionless in the middle of Bucky’s bedroom, numb. His head was both full and empty at the same time, his stomach was in knots, and he felt both too hot and too cold.

“Steve?” Bucky said quietly, lifting his chin with a bent finger. “Did you hear me?”

“What?”

“Are you hungry at all?” Steve made a face at the mention of food and Bucky backtracked. “How does a bath sound?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Pleased to have a tangible task, Bucky quickly gathered up a pair of pajama pants, thick socks, and a t-shirt before pulling Steve out the door and down the hall. He plugged the drain and ran the hot water, looking miserably up at Steve who was staring, empty, at the tile floor. Bucky was afraid his mother was going to walk upstairs and heatedly question what they were doing, but he pushed it aside. Steve needed him and Bucky was willing to answer to any awkwardness if it was because he was trying to help.

Once the tub was full, Bucky pivoted over to untie Steve’s shoes, tapping at his legs until Steve stepped out of them, Bucky quickly pulling off his socks in the process. He stood in front of Steve and unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off Steve’s shoulders and to the floor. He pulled Steve’s undershirt off over his head, arms heavily raising to allow it, and Bucky bent to undo Steve’s belt and pants. Pushing them and his boxers down, Steve wordlessly stepped out and turned to the bath.

He walked over on shaky legs and eased himself down into the warm water, letting out a long breath. It did feel nice and for a second, Steve felt like everything was alright. Then he remembered. Tucking his knees up, the tears began to fall anew and Bucky wiped them away with the backs of his fingers.

Steve looked at him, sat on the tile floor facing Steve, one arm stretched over inside the tub to dab at Steve’s cheeks.

“Your sleeve is getting wet,” he said.

Bucky looked down. His arm was draped around Steve’s bent legs, elbow submerged in the warm water as he rubbed gently at Steve’s face.

“It’s okay,” Bucky replied, quiet. 

Steve nodded and pressed his head into Bucky’s palm, closing his eyes.

A few long moments passed before Bucky croaked out, “Steve, I can’t even begin to imagine—”

“No,” Steve interrupted brokenly. His eyes were still closed as his face screwed up. “Not yet.”

Bucky pressed his lips together and dropped his head, trying to process everything. Mrs. Rogers was gone. Just _gone_ and Steve was left here alone to cope with it. Saying it wasn’t fair was the biggest understatement Bucky had ever thought of and he tried not to get angry about it.

“What do you need from me?” Bucky quietly asked instead.

Steve slowly opened his raw eyes. “Just…don’t leave me alone.”

The tone of Steve’s voice shattered Bucky’s heart and he looked painfully back, chin quivering. “I won’t, Steve. I won’t. I will never leave you alone.”

Steve shook his head and shakily buried his face in his hands. Bucky pushed up to his knees, dunking his arms underwater to wrap them around Steve’s trembling body. He kissed Steve’s hair.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. I’m so sorry. I love you so much, okay? I love you and I’m here for you. Anything you need, I’m here.”

Steve let himself be held as he absolutely broke down again, desperately gasping for air between sobs.

\--

Blinking his eyes open, Steve didn’t know where he was for a moment. Glancing down, Steve saw Bucky’s bare arm draped over his side and his heart warmed until he remembered the day before. Steve closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before carefully rolling over to face Bucky.

He was sleeping peacefully, eyes lightly shut, dark lashes thickly fanned out. He took long, steady breaths through his parted mouth, warm air ghosting across Steve’s face with each exhale. Steve snuggled closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck as he tucked his hands up between their torsos. He traced a finger around Bucky’s skin, bronzed and warm, making constellations between freckles and playing lightly with the hairs on Bucky’s chest. 

Steve let out a sad sigh and thought to himself: Remember this, Steve. Remember that even with so much tragedy and ugliness in the world, there is still some beauty in it and you get to see it and touch it every day of your life. You’ll get through this. You always do.

He was surprised that he had any tears left in him, but they slowly began to fall again. Steve tried to be quiet, but Bucky still stirred. Without saying anything, or even opening his eyes, Bucky wrapped his arms tighter around Steve, running a hand along his limp hair. He kissed Steve’s forehead before resting his face there and letting out a long, sad breath.

“There’s so many things I have to take care of,” Steve whispered hoarsely. “Money, accounts, what do I do with all her things? And I need to plan the f—the funeral.”

“You won’t have to do any of it alone,” Bucky said quietly, pulling away to look Steve in his puffy eyes. “I’m sure the other nurses will help. And you know my family is here for you too.”

Steve nodded against the pillow and took a hitched breath in.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t know what else to say. What else _could_ he say? Part of Bucky selfishly didn’t want to think too much about it. He loved Sarah like a second mom and the thought of what Steve must be feeling without her…? It was too much for Bucky to handle. He needed his head on right in order to take care of Steve when he needed it most. He’d agonize over the mortality of his own parents later.

Steve stayed in Bucky’s bed for most of the morning, Bucky brining up a mug of tea and plain toast for him to nibble on. After getting dressed, Bucky puttered around his room, tidying up as Steve nursed his tea, eyelids half shut. Bucky finally looked around, taskless, before his eyes settled on Steve.

“Don’t you have t’ get goin’ soon?” Steve asked.

“Where?”

“To work.”

Bucky stepped over and eased down onto the bed, creaking the frame and rustling the sheets. “No. No, doll.” He reached out to gently brush the bangs out of Steve’s eyes. “I told them I wouldn’t be back in until Tuesday.”

The relief Steve felt was overwhelming. “They aren’t mad about it?”

Bucky dropped his hand, resting it lightly on one of Steve’s knees. “I don’t care if they’re mad about it.”

“But—”

“Steve, don’t worry about me, alright? Let me take care of you.”

“I don’t need—”

“Everybody does,” Bucky interrupted, anticipating Steve’s stubborn retort.

Before Steve could reply, there was a small knock at the door. Bucky stood up slowly, giving Steve a lingering gaze, before opening the door a crack and peeking out.

Turning back to Steve, he said, “Becca wants to see you.”

He nodded and Bucky opened the door all the way, letting his sister step inside. She bounded over to the bed and threw her arms around Steve’s neck, dabbing at her eyes.

“It’s just awful,” she started, letting go. “Steve, I’m so sorry. We’re all here for you, you know that right?”

He nodded again.

“I just wanted to give you a big hug and tell you that,” she said, grabbing Steve’s free hand with her own.

“Thanks, Bec,” Steve replied, forcing himself to smile at her.

Becca looked sadly at Bucky who gave her a tired, but appreciative expression. As she moved to leave, her eyes quickly searched around the floor and met Bucky’s stare again, silently letting him know that she didn’t see any extra pillows or blankets lying there. Bucky blushed the tiniest amount and let out a breath, turning away.

“If you need anything, let me or Mama know,” she said before leaving the room and slowly shutting the door behind her.

After a long, silent moment, Bucky resumed his mindless pacing, picking things up and putting them down again, not knowing what to do with himself.

“I need to go by the hospital today,” Steve mumbled, half to himself.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Bucky asked.

“…please.”

Steve dressed in his clothes from the day before even though they felt wrong and tainted. Bucky offered him something different to wear, but Steve knew he’d just be swimming in whatever Bucky loaned him and that seemed even worse.

Bucky stood behind Steve in the bathroom and combed through his hair, slicking down the cowlicks that popped up from a rough sleep. Putting the pomade away and wiping the excess of his fingers, Bucky set his hands on Steve’s shoulders and looked at him in the mirror. Steve was looking sadly back. Giving him a sympathetic smile, Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him close, kissing down from his temple to his jaw. He breathed near silent words of endearment into Steve’s neck while slowly swaying back and forth, Steve’s hands clamped painfully onto Bucky’s arms around him.

\--

By the end of the month, Steve could finally get through the day without having some kind of breakdown, but he didn’t think he’d ever get used to not having his mother around.

A few days after her funeral, Bucky had used the spare key to get into the apartment and found Steve balled up in his mom’s bed, hugging one of her dresses.

A week after that, Bucky happened across Steve in an alley by the Brooklyn train station, beat up, bloody, and pissed off.

On a Friday night, Bucky convinced Steve to go out to the cinema, hoping the new Laurel and Hardy would take his mind of things for a little while.

Halloween night, Steve sat on his sofa, Bucky’s arm draped around him as they listened to a scary radio special. Bucky was starting to nod off as Steve unwrapped his twelfth piece of candy and shoved it into his mouth. A sudden loud, banging sound effect burst from the radio and it startled Bucky so much, he practically fell of the couch with a yell.

Steve stared at him, wide eyed, more surprised at his reaction than the noise itself. Bucky was perched on the edge of the cushions, his head slack and hanging nearly between his knees as his back heaved up and down, heartrate through the roof.

Putting a hand on his chest, he turned to look at Steve and calmly said, “That scared me.”

Steve looked at him for a few more seconds before bursting into laughter. He completely lost it, cracking up until tears rolled from his shut eyes and his breaths came in gasps. Bucky couldn’t help but smile looking at him. It was the first time Steve had laughed since Sarah passed and it was at Bucky’s expense, which made him more delighted and honored than anything else.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Bucky teased, leaning back to grab Steve around the waist, putting pressure on his most ticklish spots.

Steve continued to yelp with amusement as Bucky poked and squeezed at his sides and under his arms.

“Stop it!” He cried, pretending to try to push Bucky away.

“What d’you say?” Bucky laughed, quickly extending an arm to make sure Steve didn’t roll off the sofa.

“Please!” Steve shouted. “Please!”

Bucky pulled away as they caught their breaths, Steve smiling wickedly at him.

“You’re going to pay for that,” Steve started, trying to be intimidating by pointing a finger in Bucky’s direction. “You won’t know when or where, but you will.”

“Oh, lah-dee-dah,” Bucky scoffed, flipping his hand in the air. “I’d like to see you try to sneak anything by me.”

Steve gazed lovingly at him, but then his smile faded and his expression turned serious. Clearing his throat, he said, “Thank you, Buck.”

Bucky pushed his eyebrows together. “For what?”

“For everything these past few weeks. I—” Steve took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Well,” Bucky sighed, repositioning so he could comfortably wrap Steve in his arms again. “You don’t have t’ worry about that because I’m never goin’ anywhere.” 

Steve smiled, bittersweet, and let his head rest heavily on Bucky’s broad shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe this makes me a weenie of a writer, but i didn't want to go too far into Steve's reaction to his mother dying simply because I didn't want to think about it. I do this for fun and while I want to be authentic and genuine, some things I just don't really want to tackle here haha
> 
> I'm also starting to be less and less concerned about historically accurate dialogue. I've said this before, but it's my favorite thing to write, so I just let it flow and maybe it's not exactly how people would phrase things in the '30s, but whatever.   
> Speaking of, I've been researching how people did laundry back then and it's such a Process so I'm conveniently skipping over stuff like that too lol sorry
> 
> Again, thanks so much for reading! Sorry this one was a bit of a downer, but I couldn't not include it.


End file.
